Sunday, January 12, 2014

The Day of the Eternal that Drinks Its Own Blood


Strewn over a bestilled battlefield hundreds
Of vanquished angels weightless flaking away
So many thin sighs on the dry wind strange
Decay of empty sound where carrion flowers
Unfurl unseemly colors in this desiccated rot
Being so serenely dead and dying is not
Paradise loosed from the light of extinguished
Stars O god who summoned me from the sea
Who called me from reflected water
To decipher these dismembered voices what
Do I care for untranslatable aromas martyred
Fragrances for these inauthentic gestures
The only thing to do is play an Argentine tango
Open sunshut eyes dance with naked doubt

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